


A Church of One

by butmostlygoats



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Original Character(s), Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butmostlygoats/pseuds/butmostlygoats
Summary: “So…” Sam says as they make their way towards her office. She works out of her house. Convenient. “I was thinking, you guys could pose as a couple in need of counseling. It’d give me a change to look around, sneak up on her, you know?” Dean looks over at Cas. They’re walking close enough that their shoulders bump every couple steps, fingers lazily intertwined.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	A Church of One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is, um... weird? I'm kind of in mourning, and I think this became a part of that without me intending for it to. I hope you like it anyway, and hell, maybe it'll help you cope just as it helped me. This is my [tumblr](https://butmostlyspn.tumblr.com/). Click [here](https://give.thetrevorproject.org/fundraiser/3037563) to donate to the Castiel Project and [here](https://donate.nami.org/fundraiser/3040106) to donate to Dean Winchester is Love. Love y'all :)

They’ve been together a year. After Cas dies, saves Dean, Jack opens a black-bleeding tear in the middle of the street, says, “you can save him.” Jack’s got something in his eyes that Dean can’t define, and he grins like he knows everything. His grin remains when he lifts an arm to keep Sam from the portal. “Not you.” Sam opens his mouth to disagree, but there’s Jack with that knowing smile, with those eyes subverting definition, and Sam just nods.

Dean returns to the bunker days later, Castiel at his side. Human. Sam eyes their hands, which rest between them, tangled as anything ever was.

It’s been a year since then, and they spend some of it resting. They watch movies, and Dean pauses them incessantly, to tell Castiel a Cowboy Fun Fact or to point out inaccuracies. Sometimes, though, Dean pauses the movie, and he doesn’t say anything. He pauses it, and Castiel wonders what he’s about to learn, about cowboys or movies or both, but. But Dean just looks at him.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he says sometimes, or “you’re perfect, you know”, or, rarely, beautifully, painlessly, “I love you.” And Castiel likes these moments the most.

It’s been a year, and they spend some of it hunting, too. A nest of vamps in Colorado. A djinn, a rugaru, a ghoul. The cases thin out, or maybe they stop checking as often. All Dean knows is that he’s happy. Happier. And all Cas knows is that he’s fine hunting, if that’s what Dean wants. It’s not, and that’s something Cas knows, too.

It’s been a year, and they’re on a case now. A suspected witch, working her way down a list of every person her husband has slept with since they got married. It’s mostly mistresses, but there’s one man. He gets it the worst.

“Kinda ironic,” Dean tells Cas. They’re a few miles north of their destination, a small town near Ruidoso, New Mexico, and Baby’s been whining incessantly all the way down. Cas lifts a half-there gaze from his book.

“Huh?” Cas says, and then, “I mean, what is?” Dean smiles like he thinks this is real funny.

“That she’s a couple’s counselor,” Dean says, smiles and nudges Sam. Sam turns away from his phone, says, “Hang on, Eileen,” and scowls at Dean. Dean says, “nothin’, nothin’,” hands raised to surrender, and Cas’ rests his book words-down against Baby’s interior, as if to let her read. He leans into the front seat, into Dean’s space, and Dean leans back into his, as much as he can.

“Yes, Dean, that is ironic,” Castiel says, and then chuckles warmly; it’s Dean’s turn to scowl, but he says nothing. The town sign welcomes them soon after, and Sam trades mushy goodbyes with Eileen over the phone. Dean gags in Cas’ direction, and they both snicker quietly. Only, Dean hooks his pinky around Cas’ right after, and the sentiment is lost on him.

They did the investigating in Ruidoso. It’s where most of the victims lived, before, and. And Dean thinks it was a real nice place. The mountains climbed so tall above the horizon, and there was this little automotive shop that Dean kept thinking about. One of the first victims had worked there. They said she knew just about all there was to know about cars, that she was right out of _My Cousin Vinny_.

Once they’d figured out the common denominator, they’d known to come here: Newton, New Mexico, home to a McDonald’s, a baptist church, a park, and Miranda Rowling Counseling. And maybe a few people. But only maybe.

“So…” Sam says as they make their way towards her office. She works out of her house. Convenient. “I was thinking, you guys could pose as a couple in need of counseling. It’d give me a change to look around, sneak up on her, you know?” Dean looks over at Cas. They’re walking close enough that their shoulders bump every couple steps, fingers lazily intertwined.

“I’m good with that. You good with it, oh troubled lover of mine?” Dean asks. Cas contains a wide grin into a red-cheeked smirk.

“Terribly fine, you…” Cas thinks about it, and then pushes Dean away. “You cheating bastard!” Dean laughs, quickly stitching back up the distance between them.

“That the story we’re goin’ with?” Dean asks, and Cas seems to decide then that it isn’t.

“No,” Castiel says. “I’d butcher the role.” Dean grins, and Sam looks back at them, thinks of Eileen. She’d skipped out on this hunt, but Sam is kind of glad now. There had been no discourse over who would be counseled.

“What’s our story, then?” Dean asks. Castiel hums.

“We’ll see.”

And then they’re there. They hadn’t made an appointment; not how they roll. Sam bids them farewell, and heads towards the back, waiting until he’s sure they’ve got her occupied to sneak in. Dean drops Cas’ hand and puts a few feet between them.

“Think unhappy thoughts,” Dean says, and then knocks. Cas’ stifles a chuckle under a solemn expression, and it nearly makes Dean crack. A year ago, it would’ve been difficult to feign joy, and now. Well, now is all that matters.

Miranda opens the door wearing a plastic smile. She plays this role well, betraying just enough annoyance that she still lands in the realm of professional. She’s good at this, at faking. Dean would know.

“You don’t have an appointment,” she says. “Unless you aren’t here for that.” Cas chuckles bashfully.

“We know, we just… we’ve heard good things. We’ve got friends over in Ruidoso who said that you helped fix their marriage, and we…” Cas trails off.

“We need it,” Dean takes over. Miranda nods, opening the door and gesturing them inside.

“Well, luckily for you, I had someone cancel today. I can fit you in.” She ushers them to a pair of open glass doors. The room is decorated in beiges and muted greens. They follow her inside, and make a point of sitting on opposite ends of the loveseat, both uncomfortably dependent on the arm rests. Dean doesn’t know if they’re putting it on too strong. He doesn’t know what it would look like. He and Cas are fine.

“What brings you in?” Miranda asks. She’s got a pen and paper on the table beside her, but she doesn’t appear ready to use them just yet. Dean pauses to think up a scenario.

“He doesn’t see his own value,” Castiel says, and Dean’s gaze rushes to find Cas’. They hadn’t discussed this. This wasn’t… “He seems to think that he’s disposable. Unimportant.” Miranda nods, opens her mouth to speak.

“I do not,” Dean says in his best denial voice.

“I nearly died last year,” Castiel says. _Did die_. He did die last year. “And I spent what I thought would be my last few minutes trying to tell him how I see him. Trying to get him to understand what he’s worth.” Miranda hums, still writing nothing.

“And what is he worth?” She asks, and Castiel doesn’t wait a second.

“Everything,” Cas says, and Miranda smirks.

“What are you worth?” She asks. Dean rubs at the back of his neck.

“Ah, Jeez, I… I’m human. Worth the same as everybody else, I guess,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head.

“You don’t think that. Or, at least, you don’t act that way.” Cas doesn’t say what he thinks. That, even if that were true, if Dean thought himself equal to everyone else, he’d still be wrong. That after everything Dean has done, everything he’s survived, he’s worth several times more than anyone else Castiel has ever found.

“How do you know that he doesn’t?” Miranda asks. 

“He never treats himself right. He’s always- always drinking, always putting everyone before himself.” Dean raises both eyebrows.

“You’ve never said anything before. About my drinking.” Castiel sighs.

“I just… You’ve deemed it a defense when it’s… more of a weapon.” He chooses his words carefully. Miranda writes something, finally, and flips the notepad onto its face.

“Dean, do you think that Castiel values you too highly?” Dean sighs into his fist, pauses.

“No,” he decides after a moment. “I think that he loves me. I think that we love each other in the only way that we know how. And maybe it seems a little intense to other people, but it works. It’s good.” Castiel reaches a hand over to squeeze one of Dean’s before returning fully to his side of the loveseat.

“Intense?” She repeats. “Sometimes, love can mimic worship. Lovers find within one another the means to become God, even if only to a church of one.” Castiel hums.

“I’ve met God,” Castiel says. “A couple, actually.” Dean understands, now, that pretending is over.

“Miranda…” Dean says, resigned. “You said our names. We never told you our names.” He doesn’t want this anymore. In an awful way, he understands. She deserves to be punished, but she deserves death no more than her victims had. She’s lost.

“’Hardly a witch out there anymore who hasn’t had your names on her lips,” Miranda says. She smiles. “I just loved him, you know? You do know. I loved him too much and… he loved me too little.” She blinks hard, silencing a sob with closed lips. She opens her eyes, and sighs. “Goodbye Dean, Castiel.” She nods to both of them, and then lifts a hand as if to cast a spell in their direction. She’s dead in seconds, a witch-killing bullet to the head. Sam rushes in.

“You guys good?” He asked. Dean can barely breathe.

“Fine,” he manages.

“I’m okay,” Castiel says, sounding no less shaken. Sam eyes them curiously.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asks, peering around the room.

“She wasn’t attacking us,” Dean says. “She did that so you would kill her. She knew we were hunters the whole time.” Sam gawks.

“Why…” he trails off. “Why would she let you in?” Dean shakes his head, and Castiel takes his hand in his.

“I don’t think she wanted to live anymore,” Castiel says. “Sam, could we have a moment?” Sam nods, and Castiel listens to his heavy footfalls, to the careful thud of the front door. He rests a loose fist on Dean’s thigh.

“That felt different,” Castiel says. Dean nods slowly.

“I’ve wanted to quit for a while.”

“I know.”

“But this felt like the last,” Dean says. “She felt like our last.”

“I know.” Dean pauses.

“Listen, I’m working on it. On… understanding my own value,” Dean says. “You, us, our relationship, is the lens through which I see myself. And I care more about me now than I ever have. I’m working on it.” Castiel nods.

“Okay, Dean,” he says, and then stands. He gestures at the glass doors. “We better go.” Dean nods.

“Yeah, lemme just…” He lifts the notepad from her table.

_He loves you just right. Don’t take that for granted._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Kudos make me giggle, comments made me happy flap. 15x20 didn't happen <3\. This is my [tumblr](https://butmostlyspn.tumblr.com/). Click [here](https://give.thetrevorproject.org/fundraiser/3037563) to donate to the Castiel Project and [here](https://donate.nami.org/fundraiser/3040106) to donate to Dean Winchester is Love. Love y'all :)


End file.
